Comfort Comes Calling
by sawyer finn
Summary: When a mission goes awry and Sam feels directly responsible, the rest of SG-1 knows she needs a bit of comfort to get past her feelings of failure.


Author: SawyerFinn

Title: Comfort Comes Calling

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 4,387 words

Genre: Angst, Hurt/comfort

Pairings: none, unless you choose to infer something on your own :)

Characters: Sam centered story with rest of SG-1 providing her comfort

Spoilers: none but story is set sometime in season 1

Challenge: use the words, "Beanie Babies, ice cubes, telephones"

Sometimes Captain Samantha Carter just wanted to be left alone.

She wanted to escape. Get away from all human contact. Have no companion other than her own confused thoughts. Forgo all responsibility and need to be performing at her best. At such times it took every once of training and self-control just to make it to the safety of her own home where she could lock the door, turn off the lights, and sink into a corner for a very long and private cry.

It wasn't a frequent occurrence, this desire to escape for a while. Sam was typically quite confident of her skills and talents. A few co-workers might even say she was over confident, although no one could ever accuse her of being arrogant. She had proven herself so many times in her career that very few needed to question her. If Sam said it could be done, it could be done.

Sam was also quite comfortable in most social situations. So for all outward appearances, she was a beautiful, bright, Air Force officer and astrophysicist who never cracked under pressure. She rarely needed to pretend to be something she wasn't. She simply had to be her best and get the job done.

Once in a while though, emotions won out over military training. Stress pushed and pulled at her until she felt torn apart. Some theory proved to be wrong. Some decision she made in the heat of a crisis cost the lives of others. She wasn't as experienced with giving orders as she was with calculating numbers. Numbers were predictable. People weren't. And when the lives of others depended on her performance, it was all too easy to become lost in personal recriminations.

The image of a youthful woman's face bloodied and frozen in the rigors of death swam before her eyes as a silent accusation. She couldn't quite shut it away in her subconscious because the memory was too fresh. So recent in fact, Sam could still smell the smoke of burning buildings and hear the screams of people being cut down by rapid fire from Goa'uld gliders. Sam bit back a choked sob as tears once more threatened to fill her trembling eyes.

Never let them see you cry.

As a female in the air force, she had lived and died by that saying in the early days. Driven by the need to prove that she was as smart and brilliant as her resume claimed she was, she had learned methods for making sure that certain people never saw any sign of weakness in her. She had the ice queen act down pat from years of practice. Not that she reveled in using it.

But old habits died hard.

Especially when once in a while, chinks in her emotional armor developed. Cracks pushed through all of her defenses and she knew she had to get away before people saw her melt down. She could recognize the signs and usually managed to hold it together just long enough to make her escape to privacy. In the promise of solitude, she could revel in her failures, real or otherwise, and just cry until her eyes ran dry.

SG-1's recent mission off world was at the heart of her current desire to escape human contact for a while. To say it was a mission gone awry was an understatement. True, the entire team had made it home, which sometimes proved to be an amazing accomplishment in and of its self. And while the team was battered and bruised, everyone was alive and safe. Colonel O'Neill had a broken rib or two, several new cuts that would add to his collection of scars, and various tender bruises. Daniel had a staff weapon wound in one arm, but it wasn't serious. Both would recover just fine according to the doctors. She herself had gotten off much easier, suffering only a few negligible bruises and a series of small cuts along one leg. Thanks to his symbiote, Teal'c's minor injuries were already nearly healed.

The mission objective howeverto recover a potentially valuable shield generator, was an utter failure. That could be blamed on Apophis, Stargate Command's formidable alien enemy. Any time SG-1 tangled with the Goa'uld who posed as a god to his subjects, it was bound to result in casualties on one side or the other. He always seemed to show up and cause trouble when he was least wanted. On this particular mission, it was completely unexpected. They were supposed to be on a planet that had been abandoned by the Goa'uld long ago because it had no visible purpose. They would never be completely sure how Apophis had learned of the technology potentially hidden away in ancient ruins or more importantly, SG-1's location in a village close to the Stargate. Possibly there had been spies in the village. Whatever the case, no one saw the attack coming, not even Colonel O'Neill.

Despite the surprise of the attack, no one on the team had been captured or killed. Sam had orchestrated the destruction of the technology rather than allowed it to fall into the hands of Apophis. That was what everyone was commending her and the rest of SG-1 for. No one bothered to mention that far too many innocent natives living in the village had died in order to save SG-1 and help get them home. No one pointed out that it was a decision she made while in the heat of battle that had directly led to several of those people's deaths.

Even now as Sam was driving home she recalled every detail of the sequence of events. Actions and reactions played through her head like a bad movie, forcing her to relive and rethink every decision. Her mind was searching for ways that the outcome could have been different. The way she could have changed what she did to avoid the deaths of the villagers she had started to consider friends.

She recalled how an explosion had thrown O'Neill several feet as the first few seconds of the attack unfolded. Through the flames and smoke, she had quickly spotted his prone form a short distance from her position. She also quickly realized that she couldn't immediately get to him because the Goa'uld gliders circling above the village were laying down heavy fire. He didn't get up and he didn't respond to her shouts and calls.

So, in the same heart beat that she feared O'Neill was gravely injured or even dead, her training took over. She assessed the situation and quickly chose the method and means that would preserve her and the every member of SG-1's life. Everyone else could say it was good military leadership on her part; that she had showed real skill and potential in a dangerous situation, yet she still questioned her actions. Many other fine officers had crumbled in similar situations where the status of their commanding officer was unknown.

But no matter how many compliments she received for her ability to take command, she felt guilty. She knew that is some sense, she had let others die so that she could live by making the decisions she had made. Again and again, the image of the dead woman's bloodied face and vacant eyes flashed in her mind. Could she have prevented the deaths of the villagers by being smarter and seeing the solution quicker? Could she have somehow been more alert or foreseen the Jaffa attack? Would O'Neill have acted differently had he been conscious and in command?

And the ironic thing was, her team knew her well enough by now to know just what she was thinking and feeling after returning from the mission. They saw through the act and knew just how much she would be second-guessing her decisions. How she would be personally blaming herself for their injuries, whether they were her fault or not. And they would not just let her shut herself off from human contact to revel in the ponderings of every possible could have, would have, or should have.

So it was that Sam wasn't sitting in her home for more than an hour, when the first of her team knocked very lightly on the door. She answered it to find a sheepish archeologist standing just outside. Sam wasn't surprised to see him first. Ever the peacemaker and ambassador, Dr. Daniel Jackson was usually the first one to make an overture offering of comfort and support. The genuine grin of pleasure that spread across her face was infectious and Daniel returned it with one of his own. It made him appear both devilishly handsome and young at the same time.

"Hey Sam." He pushed his glasses up on his nose and tucked a stray lock of hair back in place. His blue eyes sparkled with life even behind the lenses of his glasses. "Just thought I'd stop by and see how you are doing."

Sam motioned for him to enter. "I'm doing better," She always found herself being completely honest with Daniel. Of all the members of SG-1, he was probably the one she felt the closest friendship with, either because of his warm personality or because they were both scientists, it was hard to say. "Thanks for stopping by. How's the arm?"

Daniel looked down at his arm hanging in a hospital issue sling and shrugged casually. "I'd be lying if I didn't say it stings a bit."

Sam winced. "I'm sorry, Daniel. I—"

Daniel didn't give her a second to finish whatever she was going to say. "Sam," He began firmly, his tone of voice brooking no argument. "You have nothing to be sorry for. You did exactly what needed doing to get your team home safe…to get us home safe. Personally, I am very grateful for that."

Sam sat down on the edge of her sofa, looking back up at Daniel. Unbidden, her blue eyes suddenly filled with moisture and pleaded for him to understand. "People died." She wiped at her face almost angrily. "Arslan, Makeena, Triahn…" The memory of their faces swam in her mind as she named off villagers who were dead because of her. Villagers she had thought of as friends even though she had only known them for a few days.

Daniel interrupted again. "All dead because of the Goa'uld, Sam. Not you. I know you feel like it was somehow your fault. But when push comes to shove, you have to know that they'd still be alive if Apophis hadn't ordered his Jaffa to attack."

She sighed deeply, her voice rising with the level of frustration she was feeling. "It didn't make my decisions any easier. Didn't I trade their lives for ours?" She unballed her tightly clenched fists and stood up to look out the window. With a softer voice, she continued, "Sometimes I wonder how Colonel O'Neill does it all the time."

"Well he's had a bit more practice. And for all you know, he has the same coping tactics you do." Daniel replied frankly.

"Chocolate ice cream, a box of Kleenex, and a bubble bath?" Sam turned around to face Daniel, grinning at the image of her commanding officer using relaxation techniques similar to her own. Daniel chuckled, probably sharing the same image.

"No…somehow he doesn't strike me as the bubble bath type." They both laughed for a few minutes. Sam felt better. Daniel sensed that his purpose for the visit was accomplished.

"Well, I have to be getting home. Have a few books that I'd like to read through now that I have a few days off."

Sam stood up and walked Daniel to the door where they paused for a moment.

"One last thing, Sam." Daniel produced a tiny stuffed animal from somewhere. Sam was amazed that she hadn't noticed it before. He handed it to her. "Oh! And this." He passed a box of imported chocolate over to her as well.

"A Beanie baby? Chocolates?" She looked back at Daniel with a mixture of surprise and question on her face.

Daniel smiled as he stepped outside. "Sometimes a bit of cuddly comfort served with chocolate cures what ails the heart and mind. This one had your name on it."

"Oh Daniel…" She shook her head, still surprised at his generous spirit.

"No. Really. It's named, 'Sam' on the tag." Daniel winked, trying to coax another chuckle out of her as well as prevent her from trying to hand the gift back to him. It worked.

"No. I meant that you didn't have to do this." She found herself clutching the tiny stuffed animal tightly to her chest.

"Friends take care of each other Sam. You'd do the same for me." With that Daniel headed out to his car. "Call if you need anything, okay?" He requested as he opened the driver side door, but paused in order to look back at her standing in the doorway.

"I promise. Thanks Daniel…you're a real knight in shining armor sometimes." She could see Daniel chuckling at that thought as he climbed into his vehicle and pulled away.

Sam watched him drive off and then closed the door, Beanie Baby and chocolate in hand. Daniel's visit had broken the spell of angst she had woven over herself. The last of her tears seemed to have been shed for now and she no longer felt completely torn apart by her ruminations. She sighed deeply. The memories were still too fresh and she was felt pangs of gut-wrenching guilt for what had happened when she thought about them. Yet she also knew she could expect two more knights in shining armor checking up on her before the night was over.

When the telephone rang a few hours later, Sam knew who it was, even as she picked up the receiver. "Hello, Teal'c." His timing was perfect. The visit from Daniel had gone a long way towards helping her feel better about the botched mission, but she was still very much stuck in analyzing the events. She wasn't happy with herself and was starting to feel down again.

"Greetings, Samantha Carter." The large Jaffa's voice didn't waver even though he should have been surprised that Sam seemed to know it was him before he spoke. Because Teal'c wasn't let off base very often, he had become accustomed to using the phone. His deep voice resonated through the receiver and even though it remained mostly monotone, it was reassuring for Sam to hear it.

"I am calling to see how you are doing." Teal'c began.

Sam settled into a comfortable position in one of her chairs, glancing out the window at the setting sun. "I'm okay, Teal'c. Daniel stopped by to check on me." She couldn't resist adding with a bit of a smile, "He brought me chocolates."

"That is good to hear." Teal'c replied. "After the debriefing with General Hammond and the men from Washington, I was concerned for you. You seemed upset."

"I know. The debriefing didn't go well."

"That is not entirely true, Samantha Carter." Teal'c's voice was firm and unwavering. "Colonel O'Neill defended every decision you made while he was unable to command SG-1."

"As did you, Teal'c." Sam recalled how both warriors had stared down the various bureaucrats at the meeting with facial expressions stern enough to force even General Hammond to break eye contact. O'Neill had looked even more formidable than usual with fresh bruises and cuts on his face.

In expectation of SG-1's return with the shield technology, Washington had sent a team of delegates to Cheyenne Mountain to take it for further study and application. When the team had returned through the gate under heavy fire, suffering injuries, and without the promised technology, the Washington delegation went into an uproar. Throwing routine to the wind, they had demanded an immediate debriefing to find out what exactly had happened. It had felt like there was barely time for the doctors to treat their various injuries in the infirmary, let alone get their thoughts together before the Washington people set into grilling SG-1 thoroughly and mercilessly about what had gone wrong. They wanted to blame Sam for what had happened, especially for the decision to destroy the technology rather than try to bring it back through the gate.

Both O'Neill and Teal'c had been adamant in their stance that Sam had acquitted herself quite well. Sam, still quite shell-shocked from the events, was not up to the standard of having to defend, second guess, and otherwise interpret every action both she and the members of SG-1 had made during the surprise attack. In fact, through much of the meeting, she had felt numb and her mind had set itself into autopilot. She recalled how her fingers were still trembling as she hid them under the table.

"I only stated the truth." Teal'c replied. "I have been in many battles as a Jaffa warrior. I am confident that there was very little that you could have done differently, Captain Carter."

"I'm not so sure about that Teal'c." Sam began.

"If you had not acted as you did, it is very likely that Apophis would now have the shield generator for his ships and we would either be dead or his prisoners. Whatever the Tauri leaders think, they were not on the field of battle as you and I were. As O'Neill said, no manner of—" Teal'c paused as he struggled to remember the words.

Sam supplied them for him instead "arm-chair quarterbacking"

"Yes. No manner of arm-chair quarterbacking could have produced different results."

Sam vividly recalled how Colonel O'Neill had taken the bureaucrats down several notches with his flippant tirade against pencil-pushing politicians trying to tell trained military personnel how to do their jobs. She shook her head and laughed softly as the image of a roomful of collected jaws hanging open, too flabbergasted to reply crossed her memory.

"What is so humorous, Samantha Carter?" Teal'c inquired.

"Oh. I was just remembering how everyone looked after Colonel O'Neill finished that little speech."

"I am a man of few words, Captain Carter" Teal'c began.

"You Teal'c? I'd never have guessed." She joked, imagining how he must be raising one of his eyebrows in puzzlement on the other end of the line.

"Indeed." He stated simply. "But even I could not have said it better than O'Neill."

Sam broke into whole-hearted laughter until tears were literally forming in the corner of her eyes. "I imagine not, Teal'c." She finally managed to say.

"You sound much more yourself, Samantha Carter." Teal'c replied. "I will say good bye and allow you to return to your evening routines."

"I feel better now that you've called, Teal'c. Thanks." She heard the click of the other line and hung up the receiver. She stood up and stretched. Two down, one to go, she thought to herself as she went to draw hot water for a nice bubble bath.

The final visit came late in the evening via her doorbell ringing several times in quick secession, followed by an insistent knock or two.

After the aforementioned bubble bath, Sam had settled on her couch in front of the television. She was dressed in sweats and a cotton shirt and had wrapped herself up in a crocheted blanket. The television was playing some late night B-movie. There was an empty carton of ice cream on the coffee table and most of the box of chocolates had been consumed. She had been in a self-indulgent mood, but pampering really helped fight back negative thoughts. So it was all justified in her mind.

Yet as a result, she had nearly drifted off to sleep, even though she hadn't given up the expectation that he would also stop by to check on her. The ringing doorbell jarred her wide awake and she jumped up to answer it.

Colonel Jack O'Neill turned from his inspection of her flower pots as she opened the door. "Evening, Carter." He started the conversation casually.

Crickets and other insects were chirping loudly in the cool mountain air of late evening and the sky was filled with stars. O'Neill was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt as well as a baseball cap. He looked almost rugged, as if he had just returned from a week of fishing out at his cabin.

"Evening, sir." She motioned for him to enter her home, noticing as he slid by her that he was still moving slow and favoring the side of his body that had the injured ribs.

"I trust I didn't wake you up or anything like that?" He looked around her living room as if he had expected to find someone else there and was afraid of interrupting something. He observed the ice cream and chocolates on the coffee table, or at least their remnants. In his examination of his surroundings, he also noticed that she looked a bit groggy, but was dressed in gym type clothes, not pajamas.

"Actually, I was sort of expecting you." She ran her hand through sleep-rumpled hair and stretched.

"You were?" He raised an eyebrow in question. "Didn't realize I was getting predictable in my old age."

"Daniel stopped by earlier and Teal'c called me up on the phone. Figured you would check in on me too."

Jack's easy grin spread from ear to ear. "Well what can I say? We have to take care of our favorite female scientist." Sam felt like blushing and looked away as an awkward silence descended on the two of them.

The unflappable Colonel was the first to break the quiet. "Brought ice cubes." He stated simply and held up a bag of ice like a trophy prize. His smile evoked a trickster image in Sam, and she wondered if he had some specific mischief planned for the ice.

She covered a sleepy yawn behind her hand before asking, "What's it for? Your ribs?" Carter couldn't resist teasing him just a bit, even though she already suspected what the ice was really for.

"Oh ha ha. Very funny, Carter." Jack sulked. Then he developed a wicked grin as the idea caught in his mind. "That is unless you'd like to administer it?"

It was Sam's turn to blanch slightly at the thought of such intimacy between them. "Um…no thanks."

"Shows what I get for trying to do something nice." Sam opened her mouth to protest but Jack held up a hand, on finger pointed directly at her. "Aht! Don't your dare say it."

She grinned even more. "Tequila is in the kitchen, Jack" She answered instead. There was something about bantering with the Colonel that put her instantly at ease. She could relax and be herself. And she could almost forget rules and regulations. For right now, they were two off duty co-workers looking to relax after a hard day at work, not a Colonel and a Captain forced to comply with strict military codes of conduct.

His brown eyes sparkled in a conspiratorial nature. "Midnight Margaritas it is." Her commanding officer flashed a boyish smile, displaying all his charm. Jack knew from personal experience that a good alcoholic buzz took away the stress of having to deal with bureaucrats who felt you had screwed up. Well, at least he wasn't proposing a bubble bath to cope with the stress, Sam thought to herself and grinned.

"You don't strike me as the margarita type, Sir." She called as she closed the front door and followed him into the kitchen.

"This is a special occasion, Carter." Jack was searching through her cabinets, looking for a blender. He already had the bottle of tequila sitting out on the counter as well as two glasses, salt, and a shot glass. Sam stepped over to one of the cabinets and pulled out the appliance, placing it on the counter for him.

"Sir?" Sam was confused. "What is so special about this occasion?"

He paused in adding various ingredients to the blender, turning to look at her. "We're alive. That's special."

"Do you always make margaritas after surviving a mission gone bad?" She handed him the blender cover. He put it in place and pressed a button.

When the concoction looked thoroughly blended, he stopped the appliance and answered. "Don't you?" One of his eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. "Actually, I prefer whisky or some other equally nasty and strong alcohol straight up. It helps to brace the nerves."

"You mean get rip-roaring drunk." She held up a glass as he poured the first round.

"That too." He saluted her with his own glass and took a sip. "But this seemed more your style and tonight isn't about me, Carter."

"I see." She too took a long sip of her drink.

They looked at each other for several long minutes over their respective drinks. The quiet filled her house. She could hear one of the wall clocks ticking away the minutes.

Finally, Jack spoke. "Needs more tequila."

"Yep." Sam nodded in agreement.

Several drinks later they were both sluggishly propped up at her kitchen table with empty glasses in hand. Getting rip-roaring drunk certainly had dulled any remaining agony caused by self-reflection. In fact, she felt down right giddy as she tried to stand up and top off the drink in her glass. She returned to the table and poured the last of the mix into Jack's glass before plopping back down in her own chair.

Jack sobered for a moment, studying Sam's face intently as she toyed with the straw in her glass. "You may not think so, and it doesn't make their deaths any easier to deal with, but you did good today, Carter."

Sam looked up, returning his intent gaze. "I know, Jack. But thanks for understanding. And more importantly, thanks for stopping by."

He shrugged casually, as if it was no big deal. "Hey. It's what team members do for each other, Sam. You've got my back and I've got yours. Always." He emphasized the promise by slamming the last of his drink and nodding firmly.

"Always, Jack." She finished her drink as well, sealing the promise. She knew without a doubt that no matter what happened, she would be just fine. The rest of SG-1 was watching out for her.


End file.
